


Partly Sunny

by RinAngel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Body Image, College AU, Coming Out, Depression, Happy Ending, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Overdose, Self-Destruction, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29552658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinAngel/pseuds/RinAngel
Summary: Renjun thinks that Donghyuck is the strongest person he knows, until Donghyuck breaks down and tries to kill himself. Suddenly, it becomes clear that they both have a lot of healing to do.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	Partly Sunny

Donghyuck never let other people drive his car unless it was absolutely necessary. Renjun didn't know anything about cars, but it was a foreign car with a sleek, quiet engine, and it was bright blue, Donghyuck's favorite color. Renjun felt strange, being the one to put the keys in the ignition while Donghyuck sat beside him, but neither of them mentioned switching seats.

“How do you feel?” Renjun spoke first, once he'd silenced the crackling static of the radio. “Is your medicine still making you nauseous? We could stop and get dinner somewhere if you wanted.”

“Mm.” Donghyuck seemed like he was in a trance, and Renjun wasn't sure whether to take his response as affirmative. “I'm tired. I'd like to just go home. I'm really sorry, hyung.” He sighed, his eyes drifting closed. “I don't know if I have it in me to be fun tonight.”

Donghyuck didn't look the same anymore. He'd always been full of life, for the two years that Renjun had known him, constantly ready with a lewd one-liner or a stupid joke. That was Renjun's favorite thing about living together.  _ I need you – Donghyuck, the extrovert. You changed things for the better for me. _ But something had changed slightly in the days before Donghyuck left for his stint in the psych ward. He seemed to have gotten worse since Renjun had last visited him. He was paler, and his hands had a tremor that seemed nearly constant.

Even so, Renjun gave what he knew was the right answer, what he knew both of them had to accept: “It's not your job to be happy and fun all the time. You're allowed to be class clown and still feel shit.” He bit his bottom lip. He'd been doing it all day, out of stress, and his flesh stung between his teeth. “You know, they say that comedians are more likely to be depressed. Or anxious. I can't remember which.”

“Huh.” There was a note of something like genuine interest in Donghyuck's voice, or maybe he was faking it. “Maybe I'm using humor to compensate for something. But then the 'something' started to fight back.” He chuckled, but not really, just a dry little “hm” again. “It fought back by making me OD on painkillers. That's so metal.”

There it was, weak but struggling back to the top. Renjun nearly laughed, but it caught in his throat like a sob. “Don't say that!”

“The counselor said it's good to talk. I just don't know what I want to talk about.”

Renjun had thought of so many questions while Donghyuck was in the hospital for those three agonizing weeks. Why would he have tried to kill himself? What had been the thing to push him over the edge, to make him think that it was all worth giving up on?  _ How do you smile that way when you're not happy? You were fooling me, the person who sees you the most. _ As he pulled into the garage beneath the apartments, all he could think to ask was, “Do you feel better? I mean… with the meds and stuff?”

Donghyuck looked down at his phone— it was the first time Renjun had seen him do so since they'd gotten in the car. His once-precious Instagram account had been abandoned for three weeks. He had thousands of followers, and there was no question that they would have noticed.

“I don't feel like dying anymore.” Donghyuck's voice was flat. A voice that didn't want to speak, that much was clear.

“That's— that's good,” Renjun answered encouragingly after a moment, managing a smile that he didn't feel. For some reason, he wasn’t completely sure that he believed him, but he’d give Donghyuck the benefit of the doubt.

//

Renjun had offered to carry his bags upstairs while Donghyuck got a moment of air outside. Still, he'd looked uneasily over his shoulder on the way into the building. _ He thinks I'm loony. _ The thought stung, but Donghyuck could hardly blame him.  _ He was the one who found me, after all, laying in my own puke. _

He blinked. His thoughts when he was alone were starting to scare him. Being back with Renjun surely was the best thing, even if the doctors had urged him to return to his parents' home. Renjun made him feel safe and comfortable and taken care of, just by existing.

When he left the elevator at the fifth floor and entered the familiar apartment labeled 549, the smell of microwave popcorn hit him, and he found Renjun already in his pajamas. Cats marched across his pajama pants in patterned rows – black, white, orange, calico.  _ Cute. _

“Want to watch some TV before bed? I downloaded all the episodes of  _ Show Me The Money _ that you missed. I won't spoil anything for you.”

Donghyuck had a one-track mind. He couldn't focus on anything until he'd cleared out what was burdening his brain completely – until he was “empty”, as he sometimes said. He couldn’t bring himself to cozy up to his roommate on the couch until he’d made himself heard, quelled his own fears. “Junnie. Everything’s okay with you, right?”

Renjun's eyes sharpened, and his pretty mouth set itself in a tense little line. “What do you mean by that?”

_ I'm stupid. He's probably trying to forget. _ Donghyuck inhaled slowly. “I don't remember too much about when you found me, but I remember you talking to me while we waited for the ambulance, and you cried. I kept trying to tell you not to cry...” Renjun was getting paler as Donghyuck went on, if that was even possible; even so, he couldn’t stop, not until he’d said everything he had. “But anyway, it was selfish of me to force you to find me that way. I made my problems your problems. I'm really sorry.”

Renjun didn't speak, he just closed his eyes and brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Of course, it would embarrass him that Donghyuck remembered. He'd changed so much in the two years that they'd been roommates, but he still held the reputation of angel-faced, frosty-hearted Huang Renjun. He was a dance prodigy, an unshakable beauty, and nothing could hurt him. Almost.

“You're not just my best friend, you're really my only friend,” he spoke quietly, turning to pull the popcorn from the microwave but making no move to open the bag. “Like, seriously. I couldn't care less about those other pricks, and none of them probably like me anyway 'cause I'm an asshole. You know stuff that even my parents don't know about me.” He forced a little laugh, and he impressed Donghyuck by going for a wry joke. “You're one of the only people I've come out to. You're the only soul in the entire eastern hemisphere who knows that I fucked Mark Lee in the dance studio the day before he left for America.”

Renjun's monologue left an odd ache in Donghyuck's chest. “You're not an asshole, Junnie. You're human, as much as you sometimes try not to be.” It might have sounded mean, but it was the truth. Renjun tried to live like a saint instead of a person, not understanding how impossible his own expectations were. Donghyuck liked to remind him every once in awhile. “Even so, I didn't mean to make you cry. I thought about it a lot when I was in the hospital…”

Renjun turned and looked at Donghyuck in silence for a few seconds. He'd set the popcorn aside, and was leaning back against the counter, arms folded loosely before him. He was powerfully beautiful, beautiful through the focused efforts of BB cream and black charcoal masks and goopy snail slime lotion. Donghyuck was sure that he was the only one who had seen that side of Renjun, the one that tried harder than anything to look effortless.

His lips were soft from the balm that he constantly applied, he thought to himself without purpose.  _ They tasted sweet. _ Donghyuck's insides felt like liquid all of a sudden.

“I don't think you should worry about me,” Renjun said at last, though his voice wavered. “Now come on, let's relax for a little. I have dance class at 7:30 tomorrow morning, you know...”

The night fell short of relaxing, at least for Donghyuck. When Renjun began to doze against his shoulder, his skin illuminated by the TV like fine porcelain, Donghyuck couldn't keep his heart from racing, and he put all of his focus into keeping perfectly still so Renjun wouldn't leave.

//

Donghyuck was going back to classes against the orders of the doctor who had discharged him. They told him that it would be wise to return home to his parents and try again next semester, but he told Renjun that he'd never have been able to live with the decision.

“Then I'll just lay there on bedrest and think about it. My mom will interrogate me. She'll read my lyrics and get freaked out and analyze every little word. She did the same thing in high school whenever she was concerned about me.”

“Oh.” While Donghyuck packed lunches for both of them to take to class the next day, Renjun was stretching, gripping the edge of the kitchen table for stability. He spent the days dancing in the air conditioned studio, and at night, when the heat died down, he liked to go out and run. His muscles burned the entire time, his body screamed in pain, but— well, he had to show his willpower who was boss. Had to punish himself for being human, as Donghyuck always said. Maybe there was some truth to it, but Renjun would never admit so. “Did you write about it?” The silence echoed for a few seconds, and Renjun continued softly, “It might help, you know. Even if it never saw the light of day.”

With anyone but Donghyuck, Renjun only asked what was good and proper to ask. He was bold with Donghyuck, though, out of familiarity. The moment he saw Donghyuck's shoulders tense, he blurted out, “I'm sorry.”

“No,” Donghyuck answered, paying no answer to Renjun's apology. “Well, yes and no. There were a lot of things that caused it. Maybe I caused it myself by being stupid.”

_ You're not stupid. You're just too trusting with people. You help people for no reason. You wear your heart on your sleeve sometimes. And it's such a beautiful heart. _

Renjun didn't say any of that. Instead, he said what the best friend was supposed to say. “Didn't the counselor say it was best to talk about it?” He slipped into a lunge, stretching his limber legs. “You know I'm here to help you. I just... I guess I wish I could see inside your head myself, you know? Tell you what to do or whatever. You're good at helping people. I'm not.”

“Well, it's not like I give you a chance.” Donghyuck sounded less anxious than Renjun. He sounded flat, expressionless, like a robot.  _ Why does he talk like that these days? Is it him, or the medicine?  _ “We’ve talked through a lot of your shit. But I guess we haven't touched mine.” Renjun was uncomfortable in the pause that he took, and he considered speaking, but then Donghyuck continued, “I felt like a burden to my parents, insisting on studying music when my entire family is made up of doctors. My mom says I'm wasting my time singing, and suddenly that's the way it feels. Sometimes I'm so depressed and unmotivated that I don't even want to get out of bed— and the medicine doesn't even make me feel good, it makes me feel nothing.”

Donghyuck didn't raise his voice, but his words were heavy and piercing and heartbreaking. It was the most he'd said in days. Renjun suddenly felt guilty, and he murmured, “I didn't mean to push you. I'm sorry.”

“No. It's good. You should be kicking my ass into talking. It's good for me.” He turned to peer out the window as he closed up Renjun's lunchbox. “It's going to rain, though. You should go soon if you want to run.”

“Oh… yeah. I'll be back soon, then.” Renjun adjusted his sweatband, glancing back and feeling awkward and vulnerable as he spoke again to Donghyuck's back. “Thanks for talking, Donghyuck. It must be hard, but I’m proud of you for trying.”

“I appreciate it, hyung. Take my umbrella if you want.”

It was still hot, but the air outside felt good, and there was a pleasant breeze that kept him cool as he eased into a jog.  _ Like Donghyuck. He makes everything better in my life, just by being part of it.  _ The thought struck Renjun out of nowhere, wouldn’t leave his head— but of course, he had neglected to take Donghyuck's umbrella, and the rain began soaking him eight blocks away from home.

//

Renjun's “shit”, so to speak, came mainly from a set of parents who were hellbent on success and critical of every mistake. It showed in the son they'd created, who could never be smart enough, hard-working enough, or dedicated enough. Donghyuck wasn't sure, but he was fairly certain that the other dance majors weren't practicing on sprained ankles swelled to twice their size; or measuring their waists, their arms, their thighs at night in front of the mirror, eyes fixed in hatred on a number they'd kill to change. It was sad to watch, and Donghyuck refused to sit back and watch passively, even in the beginning, when they’d only known each other for a few weeks.

It wasn't hard to see beyond Renjun's porcelain mask of poise, given that they shared a shitty one-bedroom apartment and half of their music classes. Renjun got critique he didn't agree with during his freshman dance recital— he accepted it with grace and poise, took the bus home with Donghyuck in complete silence, and behind their locked bedroom door, cried until he was nearly purple in the face. Renjun was beautiful when it came to everything except crying.

They spoke that night over a pack of cigarettes that Donghyuck had only bought earlier that afternoon. Renjun's mannerisms were all perfect and proper, his tastes dignified, his style regal and subdued. It was strange to see how naturally he fumbled through his pockets with the lit cigarette clenched between his teeth. “I started smoking when I was sixteen. Just not too often. It's bad for you.”

“It's good for your soul,” Donghyuck had replied somberly. “Sometimes the trade-off is worth it.”

And Renjun had laughed— he had a beautiful laugh, and he looked so much more lively when he allowed himself to smile. “You're crazy.”

They quit smoking together, after, towards the end of their second semester. Against both of their predictions, Donghyuck took it way harder than Renjun did. Renjun threw himself into running and exercising, and slowly his endurance grew and his lungs healed. And Donghyuck threw himself into... what?

Producing his own tracks had once brought him great joy, but suddenly it was stress and time wasted; singing had once been his solace, but even with his voice healing and strengthening, it felt like too much effort to do more than hum along with the radio in his car. He’d come to the realization that he was approaching his degree in a field that his parents hated, making his mother worry without rest over what kind of job her only son would be able to work— 

Then Renjun had to go and mess it all up even more for him. It was the cruelest way to think about it. It made Donghyuck want to cry as he lay in his bed, wide awake, and listened to the rain hammer on the window. Renjun was still out, and definitely soaked. The thought made him antsy, and he eyed the medicine bottle on his dresser across the room.

_ Nope. I can do this without it. _

Suddenly he heard the front door of the apartment open and close, followed by the sound of Renjun slipping off his shoes. He entered the dark bedroom quietly— Donghyuck closed his eyes and held still when his roommate glanced in his direction. As much as talking was probably good for him, reopening the wounds once more that evening wouldn't do his nerves any good. When he peeked again, Renjun was stripping off his wet tracksuit, and it was impossible to keep himself from looking. Dance and self-discipline had done wonders for Renjun's form, and Donghyuck felt insignificant and shitty in comparison.

“Donghyuck?” His voice came finally as a whisper, and Donghyuck closed his eyes instantly, resisting the impulse to pull the blankets over himself completely and hide. “Are you really asleep?”

_ You idiot. _ Donghyuck lay still, patient.

“God...” Renjun exhaled a soft sigh, maybe relief, as he crossed the room. He stopped by Donghyuck's bed for a brief moment, and the urge to see what the fuck he was up to was almost all-encompassing. Then his footsteps shuffled across the carpet to Donghyuck’s dresser. Renjun picked up the medicine bottles one by one, reading the labels carefully in the light of his phone. And then— he seemed to be messaging someone— no,  _ searching  _ something, scrolling and reading.

_ I wonder if he's worried about me trying again.  _ He hated the thought, he knew that Renjun didn't need a single other thing to worry about in his already-miserable life, but the thought that he was concerned over Donghyuck's safety made him feel unbelievably  _ safe,  _ too. He had a guardian angel, albeit a troubled one.

It was hard to hold it together until Renjun slipped into bed and put his headphones on. Once he was alone as he ever was in his apartment, he hid his face in his pillow and quietly sobbed until he had no energy left.

//

Donghyuck had caught him in a downward spiral, Renjun often thought, but he hadn't considered that Donghyuck  _ himself  _ needed catching until he'd already smashed against the ground. Attempting suicide meant that Donghyuck had mandated therapy, one hour twice a week. Renjun found himself cutting class for no reason at all to come along with him, riding in the car in silence, taking the elevator and helping Donghyuck to find the correct door.  _ Lee Taeyong, Psychologist. _ He was highly recommended by the officials at the hospital— he was young, but he was smart, they’d said, easy to talk to. Still, Renjun hated the waiting room, which was empty and silent, with the young female receptionist who kept smiling his way. He soon found himself crossing the street to wait in a crowded coffee shop, instead. He was certain that if he sat in the corner and kept his head down, no one would see him crying.

It was Donghyuck who had taught him the nuances of his own well-being. Renjun had not considered himself “self-loathing” before, but only because he hadn't realized that not every less-than-perfect person wanted to die.

_ “I know it's not true, but I can't see any good in myself. I know I'm being stupid, and I fucking hate it. I hate being so anxious.” Renjun could remember telling him one night, normally-impeccable Korean pronunciation collapsing under the weight of the beer in his system. Beer had been a regular counselor for the two of them, before Lee Taeyong came into the picture. It was cheap, it was reliable, and it made Renjun less scared to cry. _

_ “You're not being stupid. Your brain is wired a certain way… but you didn't do that to yourself.” _

_ “No… I know you’re right, but…” _

_ “You can rewire it. It will be difficult, but you can teach yourself a different way to think.” Donghyuck had smiled, and a brave flicker of a smile danced on his face in spite of it all. “My mom's a psychologist. I hear her say shit like that all the time. Maybe I should ask her what she recommends.” _

_ Renjun's eyes had closed, and his neck slumped his head onto Donghyuck's shoulder, body curled into him so naturally on the couch. “I wish I could rewire my brain into somebody else.” _

_ Donghyuck had run his hand soothingly up Renjun's back. “That would be a shame.” His breath tickled Renjun's forehead. _

“Renjunnie?”

It was a sad memory, but it was still difficult for Renjun to pull himself back into the present. His coffee was barely touched, lukewarm, and he could feel cold tears dried onto his cheeks. And there was Donghyuck, standing before him again, looking  _ way  _ too put-together after his first therapy session. Donghyuck was amazing. Effortless, he'd once thought, but now he knew better.

“Come on, let's head home.”

Renjun abandoned his coffee on the table, shouldering his bag with the homework he hadn't touched, and as he followed quickly from the public view of the coffee shop, he felt Donghyuck's warm hand slip into his own.

“Junnie,” Donghyuck spoke again when they had arrived back to the car. He slipped his sunglasses on and adjusted the rearview mirror in a way that was obviously just stalling for time. “You have yourself to take care of. You don't need to come here with me if it's too hard for you. I appreciate the support, but I can stand on my own. Having you here isn't worth stressing you out.”

It was a rejection that stung in a familiar way, and Renjun felt just as winded the second time.  _ Renjun, stop. I can't,  _ Donghyuck’s voice replayed itself in his head, trembling and frightened. It was still surreal, knowing that he’d made his roommate feel that way, and the shame from it still burned in his chest.

“You shouldn't have to stand on your own,” he managed, his voice sounding higher-pitched to himself, completely foreign and deceptively strong. “I didn't have to stand on my own. I hate that I can't help you. I don't  _ know  _ what can help you. But...” _ I just wish it was me. Maybe I'm just being selfish, wanting you to see in me what I see in you. _

Donghyuck sighed, starting the engine at last. Renjun hated his sunglasses, hated that he couldn't see his eyes as he chewed up Renjun's thoughts. “You help me just by existing,” he said at last, softly. His voice wasn't monotone and robotic from the drugs this time— it trembled, and the vulnerability in it had Renjun touched. “I have a lot of friendships and relationships, but you're the only constant. You're the one who's always there waiting for me and trying so hard for me.” He chuckled. A genuine chuckle, after so long.  _ Music. _ “I talked about you with the therapist.”

“Wait, what?” Renjun laughed nervously. That wasn't a phrase to take easily. “What do you mean? What did you talk about?”

“Lots of stuff. How we met. How you make me constantly worry, but how I don't mind because I'd rather have to worry about you than to not have you at all. How jealous I am at how composed you come off.” It was a statement that came as a surprise, but Renjun forgot his flattery and felt his stomach drop when Donghyuck continued on, “I told him about the night with the whiskey, too. Just because I still think about it all the time.”

"Oh, fuck..."

//

_ Donghyuck wasn't a person who enjoyed liquor, and it had been quite out of his character to drink some weird foreign shit. Still, Renjun had supplied the bottles for Donghyuck's twenty-second birthday party using his own money, and excused it effortlessly by saying, “You told me you want to get trashed. Don't waste your time with beer." _

_ Renjun had swallowed down his first shot so admirably, without even a grimace. He had such a young, innocent face that sometimes Donghyuck found himself forgetting that they were the same age— but then Renjun could turn around and be so mind-blowingly cool. Donghyuck had to take a shot, too, if only to avoid being shown up. _

_ Renjun was so uptight that Donghyuck couldn't picture him truly drunk, but there was something magical about the changes in him as the party guests dwindled and he found himself a bit more comfortable. He smiled without worrying what he looked like, and he laughed without covering his mouth with his hand. _

_ Renjun had always hated his smile, he’d divulged, because his teeth were so crooked. But Donghyuck thought he had a phenomenal smile, when he smiled like he meant it. The empty, tight-lipped excuse that he usually gave around campus didn’t do him any justice. _

_ “I'm glad everybody's gone. I like it when it's just the two of us here.” The couch shook as Renjun plopped down, leaning back against Donghyuck's shoulder and putting his feet up. Donghyuck had been borderline nauseous from drinking so much, but Renjun was an instant distraction. _

_ “I like it, too,” Donghyuck had said with a little laugh, letting his head fall back against the couch. “You were right, whiskey is awesome. I found my new favorite drink.” His hand had found Renjun's without trying, their fingers twining, and Donghyuck realized for the first time that the comforting scent he sometimes caught in the air was Renjun's shampoo. His head had buzzed with euphoria, and he buried his nose into his roommate's hair. _

_ “Donghyuck?” _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ Renjun had shifted beside him, his soft cheek rubbing on Donghyuck's shoulder. “Mark asked if we could try dating when he comes back to Seoul, and I said yes, but I'm pretty sure we're better as friends.” _

_ It was true, it always had been and probably always would be. Mark had been crazy about Renjun (so were all the single females in the dance department), and Renjun, as usual, was painfully indifferent. Mark knew, or he should have. Renjun was too much of a perfectionist for him. _

_ “Tell him, then, just let him down easy,” Donghyuck mumbled, but after a few seconds of clumsy consideration, he amended, “When you're sober, that would be better. You shouldn't do life-changing things when you're drunk.” _

_ “But I'm not scared when I'm drunk. And... you give me so much confidence.” _

_ Donghyuck hadn't had a chance to process it all before he felt Renjun squirm again, watched him tuck a loose lock of hair behind his ear— and he hadn't protested, at least for the first moment, as Renjun had kissed him. _

_ Donghyuck had assumed Renjun was a good kisser, and he wasn't wrong. In his drunken stupor, anxiety left him momentarily paralyzed, but Renjun had led him with uncharacteristic boldness. His tongue had tasted like whiskey, his lips soft and sweet with the faint hint of cherry from his lip balm. _

Donghyuck never forgot the flavor, not of his first kiss.

“I haven't told anyone before today,” Donghyuck assured him softly, keeping his eyes on the road. Looking in Renjun's eyes was easier when they were talking about  _ his  _ problems.

“I didn't expect that you'd want to tell people about turning me down when we were both drunk and I was still fucking with another guy,” Renjun sighed. “I'm so embarrassed...”

Donghyuck smiled weakly.  _ Be real. You won't be happy otherwise.  _ Honestly, he felt like he shouldn't have needed a therapist to tell him that. He took a deep breath. “I actually still think about it a lot. What I remember, anyway...” He chuckled weakly. He certainly remembered his own words as he’d pushed Renjun back: _ “Renjun, stop. I can't.” _

“Donghyuck...” Renjun didn’t want to be talking about this. Donghyuck didn’t exactly blame him, but he couldn’t  _ help  _ it.

“Please, let me finish before you say anything,” he pleaded quietly, flexing his hands anxiously on the steering wheel as he continued on, “I have to be honest for once. I... I've never felt things for any other guy...” He swallowed. He kept his eyes focused on the traffic lights as they zoomed by, and the words came out with more ease than he anticipated, “...but I still feel things for you, after all these months.”

Renjun knew now. He knew, and Donghyuck hadn't been struck down by God himself, or more realistically, melted into his car's leather interior from embarrassment. He knew he'd still have to tell his other friends, and more daunting, his parents—  _ but now Renjun knows. Everything starts with a first step. _

One more thing. One more, before Renjun could laugh in embarrassment and dismiss it all. “Also… I'm sorry I pushed you away. If you hadn't been— my first kiss, I might not have been so scared.”

Renjun wasn't silent when it was the two of them. Donghyuck's Renjun, the one that lived beneath the facade, he was witty and dynamic and hilarious, nothing like the silent ice king that graced the campus dance studio. That made the silence all the more deafening after Donghyuck finished his confession, and he reached for the radio a moment later, wanting to kill the awkward pause in the air. But Renjun's fingers wrapped around his hand, warm and gentle, saying exactly what Donghyuck needed to hear.

“You never need to apologize for being scared,” Renjun responded simply, voice tremulous but strangely  _ calm.  _ They were Donghyuck’s own words— or at least, they had been, once. But they sounded better, and instantly more comforting, coming from Renjun’s lips.

//

Of course, the feelings for Donghyuck had never gone away. Renjun had simply done his best to repress them, the way he'd repressed his burning desire to accompany his little sister to her Super Junior concerts in high school and scream with the girls in the front row. There were certain things that you didn't fuck with if you wanted people to respect you, no matter how cathartic they might have been.

But societal expectations had not stopped him from fantasizing about doing all kinds of nasty things to Lee Donghae (he was the hottest member, no matter what anybody said), and he wasn't sure that anything could have done much to prevent him from falling in love with Lee Donghyuck, either.

Renjun was roused from sleep by the sound of Donghyuck clamoring about their shared room, brushing his hair after his shower and getting dressed for the day. It was a role reversal, for sure; Renjun's dance practice was canceled that morning, and he was reveling in the extra sleep that entitled him to. He'd go for a morning run in place of dance, he decided, before the sun was able to heat things up too much.

But running was only a temporary feel-good mechanism, he thought as he opened his eyes and peered out at Donghyuck, watching the muscles under the still-damp skin of his back as he searched his closet in nothing but a towel. _ Bless. _

“I'm so glad that you still trust me enough to be naked in front of me. I won't jump you, promise.” The joke that left Renjun's lips had Donghyuck's humor threaded all through it. He was proud of himself for thinking of it so early in the morning.

“What, should I be scared of you jumping me? You're like a kitten,” Donghyuck countered, voice light and amused. It made Renjun happy to hear; it seemed like Donghyuck’s mood had been lifted considerably since he'd first come home, and he really hoped it was true. “Have breakfast with me before I leave. I have to go to the library to study for finals. Music theory has been kicking my ass.”

“You've been studying a lot. Maybe you should take a day off,” Renjun encouraged, sitting up in bed. He caught the eye of his own reflection and made a face— his hair was standing up every which way, and his face was swollen. _ I'm gaining weight in my face lately. Not cute. _ He looked away in disgust, mustering up the energy to finally get out of bed.

“You have so much faith in me, Renjun. That's one of my favorite things about you.”

And yet, despite his apparent shift in mood, Donghyuck's back was still turned to Renjun, and his voice had a more sinister shade of self-deprecation. It was meant to float overhead and disappear, and yet it hung on Renjun's soul and ached. And just as always, when things got hard, it was Donghyuck's voice again that rang in his head,  _ You need to talk. It's okay to let it out with me, you know. _

“Why are you doing this?” Renjun questioned, voice steady and even vaguely imposing, like he had a backbone. He sounded far more confident than he truly was, but at least it was a step in the proper direction. “You tell me that you have feelings for me— and then nothing? You really don't want to talk about it?” He couldn't read Donghyuck's face in the mirror, but he continued on with a slight tremor: “If you told your therapist that I kissed you, it stands to reason that— that maybe I was weighing on your mind when you tried to— y'know. I just want you to know that... it really doesn't have to weigh on your mind anymore. We like each other. Shouldn't that be clear-cut?”

Donghyuck had always been good at keeping himself together, but the way he nervously licked his lips gave him away this time.

“You were on my mind a lot. That... that's a big part of everything,” he explained at last, though his voice quivered in a way that made Renjun second-guess his own methods. Donghyuck was strong enough to coax Renjun into honesty, but clearly that relationship just couldn't reverse. “I just keep thinking about how, if we were together... I can't guarantee what my parents would do or say.”

“I know that feeling. Trust me... I wasn't planning on ever telling my parents that I'm gay,” Renjun admitted with a raw sort of honesty that stung. The tense little shiver of Donghyuck’s shoulders told him that it stung him, too. “That's why I had the fling with Mark... I figured that college is the time I have to get this out of my system before I get married. But now...”  _ But now I don't want to imagine life without you. _ He bit back the words that he wanted to say as he grabbed some clothes for his run and began to pull himself into order.

“When you think about it, isn't it a crazy choice? Giving up happiness, for... what, exactly?” Donghyuck snorted, a half-laugh, but his voice sounded strained as he murmured, “I just want the two of us to be happy, whatever happens in the end. I hate how much there is standing in the way.”

“I know. I just think that the two of us would be happiest together.”

Donghyuck smiled. Renjun loved that smile; it lit him up from the inside, it reminded him that humanity had its beautiful parts along with the sadness and the struggle.

“Go for your run. I'll make breakfast. And then... we can talk.”

Renjun nodded, feeling his heart swell and flutter with happy anticipation. He checked himself in the mirror once more, grabbed a towel, and gave it all one more moment of thought. He was never particularly brave, but the idea just felt too  _ right  _ in his head. And it felt right in action, too, placing his hands on Donghyuck's strong shoulders and leaning up to give him a quick but tender kiss goodbye.

//

Donghyuck spent a disproportionate amount of time thinking about that two-second kiss once Renjun was out the door. His mind replayed it again and again as he rinsed rice over the sink and beat eggs together by hand, every motion half-hearted and distracted. Every detail came back, like his mind was equipped with a reel of film: the way Renjun had looked at him while he gathered his nerve, lips parted as if to speak, the way his warm hands had felt through the thin material of his shirt, the way their noses had awkwardly bumped for half a second, but then their lips had fit together  _ perfectly, _ as though their mouths were made to be together.

While the eggs began to cook on the stove, he pulled out his phone and worked out a message; finding his mother in the contact list came second nature, but this time he wasn't begging her for extra money or informing her of a mediocre grade.  _ “I want to—” _ No, scratch that.  _ “I need to talk to you later. When is a good time to call?” _

The sound of Renjun returning from his run made Donghyuck's heart race and his stomach flop, but he tried to keep it cool, eyes stuck on the pan before him while he gave the omelet one last flip. He knew what he'd see if he looked up: Renjun in the world's cutest tracksuit (it was pink, for the love of God!), hair messy and sweatband dangling from his fingers, cheeks red and rosy.

“How was your run?”

“I thought it had gotten too late in the morning to run, but it's really cold out today! I was surprised!” Renjun brushed past him to get a water bottle from the fridge, adding, “I'm really hungry, so I hope you made a lot.”

Donghyuck finally chanced a look in Renjun's direction— he'd taken up the space by the sink, starting to wash the dirty egg beaters Donghyuck had discarded there. The warmth that flooded him was incredible, the sense of intimacy that fell between them without a word having to be said. They were a strange match, as Donghyuck's other friends liked to point out, but they were a hell of a good team.

_ “It sounds like your roommate is very important to you.” _ The therapist had been an easy-going guy, younger than he had expected, and somehow he hadn’t seemed surprised in the least when Donghyuck had confessed all the mental strife of his lingering romantic feelings.  _ “Things like stress from school and parents' expectations are constant, they can't be made to go away. But it's always possible to find healthy outlets for that stress, to find people to help you. It sounds like you have a good start on that, wherever you decide to take the relationship.” _

He stepped forward without thinking; he felt strange and stiff and decidedly un-sexy, his body on autopilot and his stomach knotted with balls of anxiety. Renjun noticed his movement and turned towards him, lips parted as if to speak, but another step closed the distance between them— their hands found each other instantly, without their gazes breaking, and their mouths followed a second later. The kiss was meant to be a fast one, but when Donghyuck tried to pull away, Renjun leaned forward with him and wrapped his arms gently around his neck, a silent plea to continue that made Donghyuck feel positively weak. He smiled, mirroring Renjun's confidence as he pinned him back against the countertop.

It was Renjun who broke things off a minute later by pushing back gently on Donghyuck's chest. “Do you smell that? Something's burning...”

“I turned the burner off, though! The eggs were done!”

“You can't leave the hot pan on the hot burner! It will keep cooking!” Renjun slipped easily out of his embrace to go tend to the stove, sighing in relief a second later. “It's still edible. You're really lucky you're cute, you know.”

Donghyuck laughed, he couldn't help it. For someone as put-together as Renjun to feel anything  _ deep  _ for someone as scattered as Donghyuck, it had always felt laughable. “You know how good it is for me, having you around? I'd forget my head somewhere if it weren't attached to my body, I swear. But you're so responsible.”

Renjun seemed focused on salvaging what remained unburned of their breakfast, tossing pieces here and there into the garbage can, but he laughed aloud when Donghyuck spoke with such reverence. “Maybe that means you and I are a pretty good match, then,” he suggested, unable to keep from smiling. “I'll help you keep your head attached. You keep reminding me that I'm not a robot. Together, we'll make two functioning adults.” His cheeks glowed, giving an air of innocence that surprised Donghyuck, but his voice was strong, and Donghyuck couldn't ignore the wriggling, fluttering excitement in his stomach. “Let's be adults together?”

_ He's kinda smooth when he wants to be. _ Donghyuck smirked. It was a side of Renjun he had yet to see, and yet he already had a feeling that it would be beautiful. “I fucking love you,” he whispered once he found words, wrapping his arms around Renjun's waist and hiding his face in his hair.

//

“Just... I know saying this won't really work, but don't stress. I waited until this morning to tell you specifically so that you couldn't brood over it.”

Donghyuck was right, as he often was when it came to people. Telling Renjun not to get stressed would do nothing to keep his anxiety at bay, especially in the face of meeting new people, and  _ especially  _ when the person happened to be his boyfriend's mother. Renjun pouted and said nothing, simply dusting off the coffee table for the ten-thousandth time since he'd woken up. The news had made him clean like a crazy person, despite Donghyuck insisting that the apartment was clean enough, and every little action after that point was another passive aggressive protest.  _ I love you, but I still can't believe you're doing this to me. _

“My mom is coming to scrutinize me, not you,” Donghyuck went on calmly, and when the words didn't seem to ring through, he grabbed Renjun’s wrists and tugged him down beside him on the couch, forcing their gazes to meet. “I asked her to come to Seoul in person because I thought it would be the best way to come out of the closet to them.”

Renjun was shocked silent for a moment or two. He knew that coming out to his own parents simply wasn't practical yet, and while he was happy for Donghyuck's bravery, the thought still gave him creeping chills of anxiety. “You're going to do it today? Are you sure it's not too soon? I'm your first boyfriend, and you've only been with me for three weeks.”

“I've been with you for over two years!” Donghyuck's response was cheeky as expected. Renjun rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean!”

“Yeah. I do.” Donghyuck drew him in close, his lips brushing up against Renjun's jaw; the touch hit like a jolt of static electricity and brought forth a satisfying shiver. “I guess what I mean is that I've been with you long enough to know that I want you in my life for the long-term. In these three weeks, I've had ups and downs, and I've had days so low that I really needed you, and you’ve always been there.” He smiled, in that genuine way that Renjun loved, his eyes narrowing into two beautiful, twinkling crescents. “Even with all the shit you're dealing with yourself, you still make time for me every day. I don't understand how, but holy shit, I love you for it.”

_ All I wanted was to know that I'm helping. _ Renjun felt a swell of pride in his chest, and he hid his face in Donghyuck's shoulder, nuzzling the fabric of his shirt to hide his blush. “I love you, too.” There were a million things he wanted to say, it seemed, but the words just wouldn't take the correct form in his head. “I—”

“Oh!” Donghyuck tensed up a little in his grasp, the moment that his phone buzzed against Renjun's side. “My mom's downstairs. She says she can't find a parking spot. God...” He pulled back from Renjun, giving him an encouraging smile. “I put out everything to make tea in the kitchen, will you start some water now?”

Renjun had felt the anxiety, like it was a spear that had stabbed clean through Donghyuck and right into his own chest. But he took Donghyuck's hand, and together, they braced themselves. “Yeah,” he agreed, managing a brief smile while his boyfriend went to put his shoes on.

“Deep, slow breaths. That's what my therapist said. Long exhales.”

“Does it work, though?”

“I don't know. Just try it.”

Renjun gave it a try, trying to steady his shaking hands before pouring the steaming water. In, out. He could do it— Donghyuck believed in him. The two of them, they'd be fine. The apartment really was immaculate, he realized when he dared to open his eyes. He really hadn’t realized how much clutter was in their apartment before, but after cleaning all morning, everything felt calm, like the space could breathe, too.

_ We really can do this. We're doing great. _

It took a bit of time for Donghyuck to return. Renjun did his best not to let it play on his anxiety as he paced from the kitchen to the living room and back again, but he had to admit, hearing the front door open again made his heart shoot up into his throat. Donghyuck's eyes were glossy with tears, but they were tears long since wiped away, and his frazzled smile was a smile nonetheless. Behind him followed his mother; she seemed to be the spitting image of him, though Renjun knew it was the other way around. She was smiling, too, and it made Renjun smile too. For the first time in ages, he felt unburdened, unafraid.

“It's so nice to finally meet you. Donghyuck talks about you every time he calls home.” Donghyuck's mother had the same eye-smiles that lit up her face, making Renjun feel instantly secure talking to her. She reached out to take Renjun's hand, clasping it gently but firmly between two of her own. “I'm glad that someone trustworthy is taking care of my son.”

Renjun smiled, bowing his head respectfully even as his heart swelled. “No need to worry,” he said softly. “We’re both doing our best.”

//

Renjun lit up onstage. There was no better word for it. For all the sadness and all the struggle that he was bagged down with, he flew across the polished wood floor weightlessly, with an illusion of effortlessness. In reality, hours of sweat and tears had gone into that performance, not to mention diligent nursing and resting of his sprained knee between dance practices.

But if Renjun were in pain, or anxious in front of the crowded performance hall, it didn't show. His face was serene, and his bow at the very end was pure, personified grace. It was strange, beautiful and stupefying, to think that this flawless being was the same one who had taken to sharing Donghyuck’s bed most nights and drooling on his pillow.

“He's amazing,” Donghyuck's mother didn't speak until the applause began. “What did you say this is called? Contemporary dance? It's amazing what a young body can do.”

Donghyuck hadn't been sure what kind of response to expect. On one hand, his mother had never really been one to appreciate music (“You want to go to school for music? What kind of steady job can you get with that? Are you going to be an idol or something?”), but on the other, she knew how important it was to her son, and he was hoping that she would soon see how music— and Renjun— had helped him to heal.

“Renjun is just incredible. Everything he does, he doesn't bother if he isn't going to do it well.” Donghyuck smiled a little to himself. “Renjun inspires me to keep doing better. I... I don't know if I would have recovered the same way without him, honestly.” It was a hard thing to say to his mother, and though she was silent, she didn't protest, only holding his hand.

There was a dancer after Renjun, but it seemed like the applause in between lasted forever. Donghyuck could almost feel it himself, his boyfriend's heart pounding backstage, hardly able to believe it was finally over.  _ Relief.  _ It was all out in the open. Donghyuck knew that rush.

Renjun looked dazed, almost, when he joined them; his eyes were still damp with tears, his shoulders and his breath still trembled, and he clutched a crumpled bouquet to his chest like an afterthought. He offered no resistance when Donghyuck took him up in his arms and squeezed him tight. “You were amazing! Holy shit! I'm so proud of you!”

“I missed a cue right at the end. And my knee really hurts,” Renjun fretted softly, though he accepted Donghyuck's praise with a light blush. “You were right. I think I over-practiced. But I hope that I at least get a good score.” He laughed weakly, avoiding looking at Donghyuck or his mother as he admitted, “I cried so much after I got off-stage, and I feel so calm now.”

“You will do fine. I was in awe,” Donghyuck's mother said quietly, reaching to squeeze Renjun's arm encouragingly. “Why don't the three of us go get something to eat? I think I'd like to get to know the boy my son is dating.”

Donghyuck smiled. It was such relief, the reminder that things would be okay from here. And as they exited the theater, leaving the stuffy interior for the mild springtime evening, Donghyuck couldn't help but feel that the change in seasons was helping them both. Donghyuck had always heard that sunlight boosted the mood, and Renjun certainly looked healthier, seeming to glow with a kiss of orange from the setting sun, face illuminated.  _ Brilliant. _ Donghyuck couldn't resist leaning in quietly and kissing him on the cheek.

Renjun tensed a bit, and Donghyuck instantly pulled back a bit. “People will see us!”

“I'm sorry. You're just so beautiful.”

Renjun sighed, unable to turn away the compliment or even reply. His porcelain cheeks went softly pink, and he tucked his hair self-consciously behind his ear. It was Donghyuck's mother who laughed, remarking, “A line like that... you're just like your father. I think the two of you have something stable, and after everything that's happened, I'm glad that you have someone to lean on. Please, take care of each other. Don't lose each other.”

It seemed like such a silly and corny comment, and Donghyuck was about to respond in jest, but her final words hit him deeply:  _ Because we almost did lose each other. _ He held tight to Renjun's hand as they walked to the car; the thought of not having him weighted on him and made his body ache.

“I won't lose you,” Renjun said softly, interrupting the barrage of thoughts that were coming at Donghyuck like radio static. His grip was firm, and the smile he gave him was so genuine, so grounding. “We'll be okay.”

Donghyuck smiled.  _ We'll be okay. _ It had to be true.


End file.
